Bloody Moon
by IchigoTheStray
Summary: Draco Malfoy has plenty of problems. The last thing he needed was this one. And now, the girl he hates more than any other could be the only person who can help him. (contains slash undertones)
1. Cage

Hi! I'm Ichigo, and this is my crazy alter-ego Kaori!

Kaori: We don't own Harry Potter.

And here's our story!!!!!!!!

Kaori: Please stop wasting exclamation points.

* * *

_Every moment, we make decisions which affect the future._

* * *

"Well, I hope you're happy," Hermione Granger said, crossing her arms.

"Oh, I'm simply ecstatic," retorted Draco Malfoy.

"The floor is marble," said Albus Dumbledore. "Do try to clean up any excess sarcasm you spill on it." The headmaster took his leave, leaving the Head Boy and Head Girl to stare each other down. Cold grey eyes shot daggers at angry brown. Unfortunately for Hermione, she was at a severe disadvantage in size. Finally, Draco jerked his gaze away and spat.

"That's what I think of you, and Dumbledore, and his precious marble floor," he hissed. He stalked off to his new room and slammed the door.

He dropped onto his massive mahogany bed and stared up at the emerald-green canopy. He couldn't believe he was stuck with Mudblood Granger as Head Girl. And the private quarters? It was almost as if they expected the Head Boy and Girl to breed and produce children who could also grow up and be Head Boy and Girl. He caught himself before he could let the thought drift any farther. The idea of sleeping with Granger was nauseating.

Though she really had grown very pretty in the past few years. When she had first come to Hogwarts, she had been quite the Ugly Duckling, with her large front teeth and bushy hair and awkward, eleven-year-old figure. But, like most eleven-year-olds, she had grown into her hands and feet, and she had grown long legs and breasts.

Gods, had she grown breasts. By the end of last year, she had begun to think that someone had cast a Breast Curse on her for the amusement of all the heterosexual males. She had grown to the point where her clothes didn't fit right and she literally had to flatten herself with Spell-O-Tape to keep them from popping out. It had been the most mortifying experience of her life.

Hermione shuddered as she remembered the last two months of school. But now a summer had gone by, she had new clothes which fit her, she was Head Girl, she was the school's top student, and she had a wonderful boyfriend. The only thing wrong with her life, (aside, of course, from the constant shadow of Voldemort), was sitting in his room, sulking about the only thing wrong with his life.

Well, not the only thing wrong with his life. Actually, there were several things quite wrong with his life, and at the moment, Hermione Granger was at the bottom of the list.

The first problem was his father.

Not only had he escaped from Azkaban during the Dementor revolt, he hadn't had the bloody decency to come to see his wife and son or even send an owl. Not that Draco wanted to see his father. There had never been any love between the two of them, and he certainly hadn't been the model parent. But even though Draco hated him, he knew his mother loved him, truly, deeply, and unconditionally.

His mother. She was the second problem.

Ever since Draco's seventeenth birthday, she had been pressuring him to become a Death Eater. She wanted him to be exactly like his father, the man she so blindly adored. But Draco would never take the Dark Mark. He would never allow himself to be the slave of another. And even if he were interested, for gods sakes, he was only seventeen! He wasn't really prepared to make decisions which would permanently affect the entire rest of his life.

He was seventeen. Seventeen. And that brought him to his third problem.

No matter how much class and society his parents injected into him, he was still just a normal, horny, seventeen-year-old boy, and he had been single for far too long. It had been nearly a year since his dead-end relationship with Pansy fell flat. No matter what, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was dating his sister. And Pansy felt the same way. So they both agreed to break it off.

The fourth problem was very simple.

There would be no Quidditch that year. Madam Hooch had retired after being knocked off her broom by a Bludger, and no replacement had been found.

The fifth problem was very confusing to Draco.

He was attracted to men. But he didn't know whether or not he was interested in girls. He had slept with them before, but he wasn't sure if it was because he wanted to, or because he felt as if he were supposed to. Maybe he would never know for sure.

And he had nobody he could talk to about it.

He and Pansy hadn't really spoken much after their breakup, Crabbe and Goyle were incapable of comprehending homosexuality, and Blaise Zabini was homophobic.

For once in his life, he was alone.

Draco opened the trunk at the foot of his bed and pulled out a large poster. It was the lead singer of the Weird Sisters. He looked into the poster's blinking blue eyes. The rock star winked charismatically and struck a sensual pose. Draco kissed it. The man in the poster licked his lips and began to slowly unbutton his shirt. The sight of the poster boy's firm, naked chest sent blood rushing down into his groin.

Hermione was tired of knocking. The only reasons why he wouldn't have heard her by now were if he were deaf, dead, or unconscious. She opened the door.

Draco looked up, horrified.

He had been caught.

Draco Malfoy had been caught making out with a poster.

He had been caught, by Hermione Granger, making out with a poster of the male lead singer of a band he pretended not to like.

Hermione was frozen in the doorway, a hand shielding her eyes, her mouth open, speechless.

_It could be worse,_ she thought. He could have been jacking off to a poster of the male lead singer of a band he pretended not to like. She wasn't sure which was more surprising: that Malfoy liked boys, or that he was desperate enough to make out with a piece of parchment.

"Granger," he said, trying to regain his composure and appeal to her sense of Gryffindor decency, "I trust you won't tell anybody about this."

"Of course not, Malfoy," she said, an idea brewing in the back of her head. Then she remembered what she had come for. "Do you have any extra candles? I haven't got any."

"Well," he said, "let's see." He stood and began to rummage through drawers. "Here we are." He tossed two white tapers over his shoulder. She caught them.

"Thank you," she said, turning to go. "Oh, by the way," she added, "my boyfriend may be coming up tonight. I trust you won't tell anyone?"

"Not a soul," he said. She closed the door.

Draco flopped down on his bed again. He would have enjoyed nothing more than to tell a teacher that Hermione Granger, the perfect student, the perfect rule-follower, was bringing her boyfriend up to her room. But if he spoke a word about it, she would tell the whole school that Draco Malfoy was gay and kissed posters. It was like torture.

He crossed his arms and stared angrily at the poster boy. "I'm going to have to burn you now, you know," he said. The poster boy pouted at him. Draco swatted the parchment off of his bed.

He needed to clear his head.

Just ten minutes ago he had told himself he wasn't ready to make any life-changing decisions.

But now, he made one.

He decided to go for a walk.

* * *

That's the end of Chapter 1! I hope you enjoyed it.

Kaori: Please review! We love it when you review!

Tell us what you think! Thank you!


	2. Demon Eye

Hello! Thank you for coming to see the second chapter!

Kaori: First off, we'd like to thank infamous-writer for being our first reviewer.

We'd also like to apologise and explain our behaviour with Draco in Chapter 1. That is about as much as his attraction to men affects the story. It is not about him being gay. This story is 1: A Hermione-Draco fic, and 2: a horror story. We think of him as bisexual in this fic, and he figures it out pretty quickly. His confusion over sexuality was just another way to put more stress on the poor guy. Don't worry, he won't be in a relationship with another guy in this story.

Kaori: Sorry, slash-fans. We'll write another story for that.

Anyway, here's Chapter 2:

* * *

Draco didn't pay attention to where he was going. He just let his legs take him wherever they wanted to go. The full moon hung low, as if it were suspended by a thread that could break at any second. Far across the lake the giant squid swam lazily, causing ripples in the glassy, silver-black surface. 

He loved the smell of the night, cold and dark and damp. The cold breeze teased his hair, tossing stray blonde locks across his pale, beautiful face. The trees swayed gently in the breeze, beckoning to him like a secret seductress in a dream.

Draco never knew what possessed him to enter the forest.

Maybe it was fate. But Draco didn't believe in fate.

The forest was eerily comfortable. It was dark, and moonlit mists drifted through the trees like ghosts, catching the fragmented silver light that sifted through the trees. It was close and quiet; the only sound was leaves breathing in the wind. Draco didn't bother to light his wand, but he kept it on hand, just in case.

Something moved, just at the edge of his vision. He turned, just in time to see some enormous white creature vanish into the gloom.

Was it a unicorn? Draco had seen one in the forest in his first year, and again in Care of Magical Creatures. He had been captivated by their elegance and grace, hardly believing that an animal so beautiful could even exist. Very carefully, he crept in the direction the white beast had vanished to.

There was a clearing ahead. Draco peered through the trees. A white, dog-like animal stood there, staring up at the moon above. Draco took a step closer and a twig snapped under his foot.

The animal looked up. Draco blinked, and it had gone. He moved a branch out of his way and made his way quietly into the clearing, trying to see where the creature had gone. He couldn't see it anywhere. He was a little disappointed.

A distant howl made the hairs on the back of Draco's neck stand on end. He clutched his wand tighter.

The sound of running feet made him look up. He had just enough time to register a creature with white fur and amber eyes when it was upon him. The beast's fangs sank deep into Draco's left arm. Liquid fire shot up into his shoulder and blood seeped into the white hairs around the creature's mouth. It shook its head violently like a dog worrying a bone and Draco was flung to the ground, on his back. The impact of the hard forest floor knocked the wand out of his hand. The animal's jaws closed tighter and Draco's face twisted in pain as he heard bones crunch. The lupine released its hold and let the mangled arm slide off of its upper teeth. The fragmented white bones were sticking out at angles. Draco's vision slid in and out of focus as the creature stepped onto his chest, leering at him hungrily. He was going to be eaten alive. He grasped around desperately for his wand as the beast crushed the air from his chest. His hand finally found it, just as the beast's teeth grazed his chest.

"STUPEFY!" he yelled. The monster was thrown off of its feet and into a thick tree trunk. He pulled himself up and looked at the great beast in front of him. It was still breathing, but it did not move. Drops of crimson blood - his blood - were spattered across its face. Draco's arm felt as if tiny needles were being pushed through his veins instead of liquid. It hung, useless, at his side. His breath was ragged and gasping.

What was it? It was canine in build, but it was massive, even bigger than Draco. He hoped against hope that its bite held no venom.

The fiery pain in Draco's arm was beginning to spread, burning in his shoulder and chest like poison. He staggered to his feet, willing himself to leave the forest before the giant animal woke.

Somehow he managed to stumble out of the trees into the bright moonlight. He didn't dare look at his arm, afraid to see flesh dissolving off of bone. He heard another lonely howl. The sound froze him in his tracks, as he heard something in his blood cry out to answer back.

He forced himself to move again, reaching the castle doors just as he felt his shattered bones begin to twist. He looked down very briefly and saw as his hand melted and changed, his fingernails stretching into claws. He looked up at the bone-white face of the full moon, and two stray thoughts in his mind connected. His eyes widened.

"No, no, please god, no," he whispered. The twisting feeling spread as Draco wrenched himself inside.

* * *

Draco dragged himself into the Heads' living room, sweat pouring from his face. The wound in his arm had gone numb and was beginning to ooze a bloody, pinkish foam. His blood was on fire. Some of the ooze from his arm began to drip to the polished floor. The marble hissed as the foam burned into it. 

Hermione was nowhere in sight. Through his numb delirium he managed a smirk. She would probably be more concerned about the damage to the floor than his bloodied arm. He heard voices coming from her bedroom and presumed she was with her boyfriend, undoubtably Weasley.

A wave of dizziness and nausea swept through him. He didn't make it to his room. He crumpled, knocking his head against the hard stone.

* * *

"Malfoy!" 

Draco's eyes fluttered open. Hermione was crouched over him, wearing a look of what seemed to be genuine concern. "What happened here?"

Draco sat up partway, groggy and disoriented. Sunlight streamed through the picture windows. How had he gotten here? He remembered the forest, yes. And a white monster of an animal. He remembered being bitten.

But the pain was gone.

He looked down at his left arm. It was no longer bleeding. The bones were no longer showing. The skin wasn't even broken. Instead, it was knotted together with masses of pinkish keloid scars.

"Malfoy," she said, more urgently, "What happened?"

Hermione saw a look of dazed confusion drift across Draco's face. 

His expression hardened into a visage much more familiar to her. "Fuck off, Granger," he said. He stood, brushed the dust off of his trousers, and strode angrily to his room.

What _had_ happened? His memory was blurry, unfocused. He stared down at his arm, utterly bewildered. He had healed overnight. If it weren't for the blood on his robes and the scars and the burn holes in the damned marble floors, he would have taken it for a dream.

Draco lit the candles in his bathroom and looked in the mirror. His eyes were a little red, but nothing seemed to be seriously wrong with him. Except that the face in the mirror seemed like a stranger's. A thousand questions were spinning in his head.

He gazed deep into the mirror, as if he expected it to give him all the answers he craved. But the mirror remained silent.

As he stared through his reflection in the glass, he began to see something strange. His face began to morph and change, convoluting itself into a dark grey, lupine head with burning, golden eyes like a demon. Draco stared, petrified, as the wolf's lip curled in a filthy snarl. Maybe it was just his imagination, but he swore he could hear the shadow of a voice.

Draco jerked away, rubbing his eyes. When he looked up again, the vision was gone.

* * *

Thank you for reading Chapter 2! Question: Is this creepy enough? Is there anything missing? If there is anything seriously wrong, we want to fix it. Please review if you have any comments or suggestions. 

Kaori: Review, or _I'll_ bite someone.

She will. Really. It's scary.


	3. Beautiful Morning With You

Hi! Thanks for reading and coming back for chapter three! Much thanks to all of you who reviewed!

Kaori: We do not own Harry Potter. We tried holding him for ransom, but that didn't work.

* * *

Hermione woke gently. She was encircled comfortably in the embrace of the young man behind her. She sighed contentedly and snuggled closer against his bare chest. She had given up trying to feel guilty. She never would, no matter how much she told herself she should feel ashamed or embarrassed. They were both of age. They had known each other for years. And as far as she could tell, they weren't breaking any rules.

And she loved him.

So there was nothing to feel guilty about.

She rolled over in his arms and looked at him. His eyes were closed, but she knew he was awake. She kissed him ever so gently and wrapped her arms around his chest. He groaned sleepily and rested his lips at the base of her neck. A warm glow spread through her, all the way down to her toes. She smiled and drifted back into a doze.

* * *

Draco slammed his book shut. Why, why, why had he insisted on taking N.E.W.T. Potions? His essay lay, half-finished, on the table. Only the first week and Snape, Draco's favourite teacher, had assigned them a three-foot-long essay on the top ten most dangerous poisons.

He heard a door open and close behind him. He looked over his shoulder at Hermione, who had emerged from her bedroom.

"Nice outfit," Draco sneered, raising an eyebrow at her clothes, (a pair of jeans and a sweater). "Planning to go cavorting with your Muggle brethren, Mudblood?"

After a week with Draco as a roommate, Hermione had learned to simply ignore his insults. She marched up behind him and began reading his essay over his shoulder.

"Do you mind?" Draco said, rather testily. He wasn't an exceptional essay-writer, and he wasn't too keen on Hermione gloating about it.

But Hermione didn't gloat. Instead, she leaned over him and tapped his parchment with her index finger.

"Circe's Potion makes your liver boil out of your mouth," she said. "You've confused it with Tuberculan Draught."

"Oh," Draco said, surprised. He hadn't expected help. Just in case she was up to something, he made a mental note to check the information once she had gone. "Is he here?" Draco asked casually, a wicked grin playing around his lips.

"No, he left an hour ago," she said, lifting her school bag.

"And where are you going?" Draco drawled.

Hermione glared at him reproachfully over her shoulder. "To the library," she said, annoyed. He might have thanked her for the help, instead of interrogating her about her personal life. She closed the door behind her with a little more force than was necessary.

"I do wish you two would try to get along," sighed the matronly witch in the portrait above the fire. Draco gave her the finger. "Well!" she said, affronted. He reopened his Potions text. Sure enough, Circe's Potion made the drinker's liver boil out of his mouth, and Tuberculan Draught caused blood to pour out of every orifice. He corrected his essay with a shudder. It was like writing a paper on the top ten most unpleasant ways to die.

He glanced down at his arm and the shiny pink scars from the last week. Being eaten alive by some mad animal was right up there with your liver boiling out of your mouth.

Draco hadn't been sleeping well. Whenever he closed his eyes he saw a white wolf grinning at him; when he looked in the mirror he was afraid to see another face.

Hermione returned like a hurricane a few moments later.

"Something wrong, Granger? Boyfriend dump you?" he said as she dropped her bag and threw herself into the chair across from him.

"We are under express orders," she articulated, "to learn to like each other." She glared at him over the polished oak table.

Draco sighed and put his quill down. He looked up at her from beneath his blonde fringe, as if he were rather bored by her. Hermione's heart jumped into her throat. She had always been so busy hating him, she had never really realized how attractive he was. His body was firm and muscular, but not extremely so. His hair was a perfect, white-blonde colour and was flattering no matter what he did with it. His face was strikingly handsome, and his eyes were a breathtaking smoky grey that reminded Hermione of the sky just before a thunderstorm.

Draco sighed again and folded his hands. As much as he disliked her, he did take his Head Boy post seriously. And besides, he figured if he had to room with her for the entire year, he may as well try, for his own sake, to get along with her. "All right," he said, "what's your favourite colour?"

Hermione blinked, a little startled. "Blue," she said. "You?"

"Black. Your turn."

"Okay," she said, thinking. "What's your favourite subject?"

"Potions. You?"

"Arithmancy. Your turn."

They passed about half an hour asking and answering questions. Hermione explained to Draco the concept of contact lenses, and Draco told her a joke that sent her into a fit of uncontrollable giggling.

"So," he said, while she was still recovering, "who's your boyfriend?"

The laughter escaped her and she crossed her arms.

"Is it Weasley?"

Hermione choked. "No!" she exclaimed. Draco was surprised. He had always been certain that she and Weasley were sweet on each other.

"Potter, then?"

Hermione shook her head vigorously.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Is he in Gryffindor?"

"Yes."

"Seventh year?"

"Yes."

Draco struggled to remember who else in Gryffindor was in their year. "Who is it then?"

Hermione remained silent.

"Oh, come on," he said. "You already know a nasty secret about me."

Hermione sighed. "Neville," she said.

Draco choked. "_Longbottom?_" he shrieked.

Hermione nodded.

"Why the bloody fucking hell would you want to go out with Longbottom?"

"Well," Hermione said, glaring at him. "He's the sweetest, gentlest, most caring person I've ever met. He's wonderful, he's sensitive, and-" She stopped herself, blushing.

"And?" Draco said, raising an eyebrow.

Hermione made a sign with her hands, unable to look him in the eye. Draco whistled. "I can understand that," he said.

Now that he thought about it, he figured Neville Longbottom was probably a pretty good choice. In the past few years he had grown into a great bear of a man. He had outgrown most of his clumsiness, and the dark times had sculpted his features and lit fires behind his eyes.

"My turn," Hermione snapped. Draco winced. Now he was going to pay for that question. "Exactly what happened on the first day of term?"

Draco's eyes clouded. His uncertainty showed in his voice as he told her all he could remember. Hermione listened, white-faced and wide-eyed. When he had finished, she clapped a hand over his mouth.

"Do you think it could have been a - a werewolf?"

Draco's head was in his hands. A knot in the wood of the table looked like a manic eye staring right through him.

"Well, did you look for the five identifying signs?" Hermione asked, breathlessly.

Draco shot her a whithering glance. "I was a bit too concerned about its fangs being inches from my throat," he said.

"Oh," she said. "Well, if it were a werewolf, I expect you'd be lying in St. Mungo's, wouldn't you? I really can't believe that you didn't go straight to the hospital wing, Malfoy." But she knew that the hospital wing was up another two flights of stairs. If he'd barely had the strength to pull himself into their living room, he might have collapsed in the corridor.

Draco traced his scars with his finger and gave a noncommittal noise.

"Are you quite sure you didn't - I don't know - cast some sort of healing spell before you passed out?" she asked, apparently flustered.

"I'm quite sure," he said, annoyed. "And I'm absolutely miserable at healing spells anyway." He looked up and met her eyes. She was fidgeting nervously. He reached across the table and caught her hand. She flinched under his touch, but did not pull away. She could feel the strange, smooth scars massed inside his palm.

"Hermione," he said, testing her first name on his tongue, "please don't tell anybody about this."

Maybe it was the use of her first name, or the desperation in his voice, or the pleading in his eyes, or the loneliness, but against her better judgment, she agreed. "All right," she said, quietly.

_What is this feeling?_ Draco wondered. A tiny thrill was singing in his veins. He still had a hold of Hermione's hand.

Draco looked up again. As she gazed into his big, grey eyes, she realised something. For the first time in six years, she was seeing him as a human being, as a man, and not a serpent or an insect to be feared or crushed.

There was a knock at the door. Hermione threw off Draco's hand with a gasp.

"Hermione, are you coming?" the voice of Harry Potter called.

"Coming," she called back, rising and lifting her bag once again. She made for the door, but as she reached it, she paused. "If you like," she began, "I could proofread the rest of your essay when you finish it."

Draco looked into her round, brown eyes. "Thanks," he said. The door closed gently behind her.

Draco's brow furrowed as his fingers closed on air. He could still feel the warmth of her hand.

* * *

And that concludes Chapter 3! Be sure to review, and come back to read Chapter 4!

Kaori: Thank you!


	4. The World Without Logos

Wince. Sorry about the wait.

Kaori: And sorry that last chapter was sorta weak.

Well, I thought it was sweet.

Kaori: Yeah, well, I thought it was weak. But we did have to get through some stuff. Actually, we're still getting through some stuff. Bear with us. This is the last "Getting Through Stuff" chapter. Thanks to all of you who reviewed: **oreo69not96, abbi, Katie, and Da-ReDhEdEd-WeIrDo.**

We don't own Harry Potter. Or Draco.

Kaori: We would sell our soul for Draco Malfoy. But nobody's buying.

* * *

Weeks passed. Hermione and Draco were calling each other by their first names now, at least within the confidence of their private chambers. In public they were neither openly friendly nor openly hostile. If they passed in the corridors or in the Great Hall, they would exchange nods and little else.

Draco sank weakly onto the sofa, wiping his mouth. He had been ill every evening for the past few days and his hands shook as he rested them on his lap.

"All right?" Hermione said, rubbing his back tenderly.

Draco nodded, leaning forward onto his elbows. He liked the feeling of her hand on his back. It had been over seven years since his parents had so much as laid a finger on him, so he had been essentially isolated from human contact ever since his breakup with Pansy.

A certain question had grown heavier than a succubus in his head. He wasn't sure if he was comfortable talking about it with Hermione yet, but she was the only one who knew his secret. And she was the first person he had ever had who he could really consider calling a friend. When he reached out for comfort, she had been there, and maybe she would still be.

"Hermione," he said, still staring at the ground.

"Mm-hm?" she said, buried in a book.

"Well, you already know I like boys," he began.

"Yes?" she said, closing her book and laying it on her lap.

"And," he continued, struggling for the best words. "I think I might like girls, too, but I'm not entirely sure." There. He had said it.

The expression on Hermione's face was nothing like what he had expected. Instead of shock, or surprise, or even disgust, there was the strange look of someone who has just been reminded of something.

"I'm not the first?" Draco said.

Hermione shook her head.

"Who was it?"

She shook her head again. But then, her eyes lit up. "Wait just a minute, I'll be right back." She sprang off of the sofa and dashed to her room. She pushed up the lid of her trunk and rooted through the remaining contents. There it was, still in its department-store box.

It had been a present from Fred and George, a joke, really, (or so she hoped). It had come with a note saying, "If you ever begin to think that books aren't quite enough, just swing by the store wearing these and we'll take care of you." Fred had read it aloud to wild hoots of laughter.

She took the box back to the sofa before the fire. Draco raised an eyebrow as he watched her open it. In amongst sheets of white tissue paper there was what appeared to be a lingerie set made out of black leather and lace.

"It was a gag gift," she said quickly. "I've never worn them, but I thought maybe, if you... imagined..." she trailed off awkwardly, realizing the impracticality of her suggestion. "I'm sorry, it was a stupid idea," she said.

"No, that's all right," Draco said. "It's just... I think I'd need to - erm - see it on someone, to really know."

Hermione nodded apologetically and carried the box away, cursing herself. She tossed the box onto her bed, angrily. "Why does he make you so fucking stupid?" she muttered. She looked back at the box.

Draco felt a slight embarrassed blush colour his pale cheeks. She had meant well, but he wasn't sure why she had thought it would help. He returned to studying the shadows cast by his scars in the flickering firelight. He looked up when Hermione entered again.

His jaw dropped.

She was standing just at the edge of the circle of firelight, looking nervous, vulnerable, and uncomfortable. She was wearing only the lace and leather ensemble she had shown him just before. He now realized that it was garnished with a motif of black butterflies, gently fluttering and glittering as she moved.

A surge of desire burst through him like a tidal wave. For just a split second, all that existed was her and him and now and all he wanted was to feel her beautiful, curvy body pressed close to his, to be inside her, with her completely.

Hermione shivered slightly, a little disoriented. She concluded that she had suffered a minor lapse of sanity that had cause her to waltz out of her bedroom in ridiculous underwear.

Draco looked away quickly, afraid that she would see the lust in his eyes or the bulge in his pants. He wanted to hit himself. She was a friend, yes, beautiful, yes, sexy, yes, but she was a _Mudblood,_ for crying out loud.

"Wear that for Longbottom," he said. "It'll drive him crazy."

Hermione crossed her arms modestly. _My god, you're an idiot,_ she screamed at herself. "I-w-does this help?" she said.

"Yeah," he muttered.

* * *

"Listen, Hermione," Draco said, combing his fingers through his hair. "About the other night..."

Hermione looked up from her book, but couldn't bring herself to look into his big grey eyes.

"I just wanted to say thank-you," he said, willing himself to keep his eyes on her face. "And I - I promise not to tell anybody."

Hermione said nothing. She returned to her book.

"Are you angry with me?" Draco said. "Did I do something wrong?" He felt his old temper beginning to flare up again. It wasn't as if he had _asked_ her to model lingerie for him. She had done that on her own.

"No, I'm not angry with you," she sighed. "I just had an argument with Neville, that's all."

"Oh," Draco said. "I'm sorry." He looked up, out the picture windows across the room. They had a beautiful view of the sunset. A familiar lurch of nausea twisted in his stomach and he rushed to the bathroom, making it just in time to vomit into the toilet.

As he rinsed the bitter sting from his mouth, he wondered if he should go to the hospital wing. He had never been sick for so long before. He spat into the sink just as a chill ran up his spine. A strange, ominous feeling sank like ice into his stomach as he slowly raised his head to the mirror. A golden-eyed lupine stared back at him. He stumbled backwards with a yell, and the spectre was gone again.

He was still shaking when he returned to the sofa. He sighed and closed his eyes, trying to shake the shivers from his bones. He opened his eyes again, leaning over towards Hermione.

"What are you reading?" he asked. She didn't answer, but a line of text caught his eye.

"_In fear I hurried this way and that. I had the taste of blood and chocolate in my mouth, the one as hateful as the other."_

Hermione closed the book. "I've got something for you," she said.

Draco raised an eyebrow. Hermione stood quite suddenly, her school skirt rustling as she passed. He couldn't help snatching a glance at her legs as the headed for her bedroom. She returned with a small bottle full of some thick, murky liquid. She dropped it into his hand.

"I made this potion for you," she said. "It's the full moon tonight, and this is supposed to keep werewolves from being dangerous. Professor Lupin..." she trailed off, not really wanting to bring up that she had been in contact with Professor Lupin through the Order of the Phoenix.

Draco looked at her, then at the bottle, then back up into her warm, chocolate-brown eyes. She smiled weakly. "I was worried about you," she said. Draco just stared up at her. "I mean," she continued, trying to fill his silence, "we are friends now, aren't we?"

Draco blinked up at her for another moment, then grabbed her and pulled her into a tight, brotherly hug. "Thank you," he said. Hermione's heart thundered in her chest. She enjoyed the feeling of his body against hers. He was warm, and his muscles had the strong, slightly yielding consistency of tire rubber. He felt completely different from Neville.

"Well," she said, breathlessly, as he released her. "I think I'm going to... erm... take a bath..." she rose, slightly disconcerted, and walked guiltily from the room.

Draco's eyes rested on the coffee table, where she had abandoned her book. His gaze fixed on the title.

_Steppenwolf_

Draco sat at the edge of his bed, contemplating the bottle in his hands. The sun was finishing his descent, and the moon would soon rise. He was sure that if she had really made the potion she said she made, it would work. She might have been a Mudblood, but she was a very good potion-maker. He uncorked it and took a tentative sniff. It smelled disgusting. He held his nose and swallowed the potion in one gulp. It left a foul taste in his mouth, but it did settle his queasy stomach. He lay back on his bed and waited, watching the sky change from orange to pink to deep blue.

* * *

Wow. That chapter seems really short. Sorry.

Kaori: And this one's pretty iffy, Ichigo.

Shut up! It's just like you said, we're getting through stuff.

Kaori: Please review! Review, and please forgive any editing errors, as it is currently three-o-clock in the morning. Thank you!


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